I suspect a zeitgeist.
On Sunday, perusing as is my pretentious wont, the Weekend Australian Magazine (actually I never read the Australian; it was a one-off), I read a column that I can't locate online in my lunch hour, but which I assure you exists, about the break in the farm-to-fork continuum that allows self-proclaimed animal lovers to chow down on Daisy, Wilbur or Lambert whilst simultaneously petting Fido and stroking Fluffy.
Today's Age contains this column, slightly more academic and pointed, but in the same vein. I hope that the 'conscious forgetting' of Jonathan Safran Foer that the author refers to is getting more and more forgotten itself, but it does at least seem that this issue is getting more media airtime. I hope that someone, reading the weekend paper with a cup of coffee on the couch (or beer if you're like me), glanced down at faithful Ralph or Rex or King or Duke or Bailey or Sam, and then reconsidered their plan for a pig sandwich for lunch and a baby sheep roast for dinner.